Defending the Darkness
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: AU. Professor Sherlock Holmes, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher... frequent frightener of Harry Potter, and the one who has been making secret rendevous with the new Quiddtch Professor, John Watson. Voldemort doesn't stand a chance. R&R Slash


**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Sherlock Holmes, or any associated characters. Just this random storyline.**

**So, I was on Tumblr...and there was a .gif of Sherlock looking out the wondw of a train, and someone commented that it looked like he was on the Hogwarts express... someone else assigned the Sherlock characters Professor roles at Hogwarts... and I changed it according to my will, and wrote THIS.**

**AU & Slash. You have been Warned. **

**ENJOY.**

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><p><strong>Defending the Darkness<strong>

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><p>"The corridors were softly lit, all students in bed or at least pretending they were so the tall, dark, menacing figure of Professor Sherlock Holmes that stalked the corridors would not find them. He knew all the best spots, too... there was literally nowhere in this entire castle that a student could hide for a bit of hank-ypanky with another...<p>

Most attributed this supernatural skill as a rare magical gift, like Parseltongue, but the plain truth was, he'd simply had to deduce where he could safely meet with the new Quidditch Instructor, Professor Watson... so he could go for a ride on his broomstick, if you know what he means...

Not that the students should ever be enlightened to this fact. They'd had to blame the sudden, horrified, paralysis of one Miss Hermione Granger on a Basilisk after she'd caught them in the Restricted Section of the Library...

Quite convenient having a giant reptile floating about out there...

Sherlock shook his head, feeling the heated eyes of many a portrait he had insulted burning into his flesh; the tittering was audible enough that they allowed him to hear them all making bets on how long he would last, as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

He snorted smugly, this Voldemort character would have a lot to answer to if he had any say in it -and as John would point out, he always _did_ have a LOT to say about everything and anything he found fascinating. Why, just yesterday the Quidditch Professor had been forced to literally _drag_ him away from where he was 'examining' Harry Potter -well, his scar.

Or as John put it, "You can look, but pinning a student to the floor to get a look at a magical boo-boo? Really, Sherlock! Imagine what Dumbledore is going to say and-... you, Miss Chang, 20 points from Ravenclaw and a Detention, no seducing younger students thank you!"

Sherlock had beamed and slowly slipped out as Professor Watson turned his attention on the girl now guilty gazing up from kissing Potter, she was a most annoying child on occasions, and this was one of them.

In any case, that was irrelevant. Last night he had reviewed all he knew of this castle and decided that two nights later he would kill this 'Voldemort' fellow (as he had deduced he was currently impersonating a Herbology teacher and as such, had access to Strangleweed, which would not work out in Potter's favour... nor indeed that of Miss Granger or Mr Weasley, who followed him into all his perilous adventures).

As for tonight? Tonight was simply for a little 'consult' with his new partner...in crime, of course... well, on paper. His mind wandered into places that would make a BOGGART curl into the foetal position and whimper for it's-...did Boggarts _have _mothers?

His feet stopped of their own accord, turned sharply to the right and marched down the corridor's length, then sharply turned about and came back; he was about to repeat this for the final two turns, thinking strongly about what he wanted, when said person's head and shoulders appared out of the wall. "Are you going to continue strutting about like a peacock or come on in? Have you never heard of knocking, maybe?" the Quidditch Professor exclaimed, rolling his eyes, "I was listening out for you!"

"Well... Coach, are you going to stand there or shall I come inside and make delightfully disturbing Quidditch-psuedo-sexual puns with you?" replied Sherlock, a bit peeved and tapping his foot with a frown -not that he felt he could have left anyway, but the threat worked.

"Oh, er, righteo... come in then... so I can make like a Chaser and Score!" winked the other disappearing through the wall as the comeback, 'Through which goalpost' died on Sherlock's lips. He swiftly mentally revised his pun, stepped through the wall into the sumptuously decorated Room of Requirement and fired, "Only if you can maintain a firm grip on my broomstick... I am a better Beater than Chaser, after all... wouldn't want to _fall off_..."

From the surprised expression written all over Professor Watson's face, he had won their verbal sparring match... Sherlock grinned and moved closer to the bed...

There came a knock on the door as two figures stepped inside. One turned to the other and exclaimed loudly, "Blast, I just KNEW it would be occupied, Remus!" the scraggly dark-haired one exclaimed, causing the other -the current Potions master since Professor Snape was missing- to roll his eyes. "Come on Sirius, let's just find somewhere else... it's not like we're in a hurry."

They turned to go, but Sherlock was faster... striding across the room and grabbing Professor Black (head of transfiguration now that dear Professor McGonagall had passed) by the arm as he intoned gravely, "Just a suggestion... don't use the Restricted Section in the Library... unless you are bloody sure the door is locked."

And so saying, he shoved the pair through the door and slammed it shut, whirling back to face Professor Watson, "Ready for my flying lesson, Professor..."

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

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><p>[To be fair, I made it up while I was going, so don't judge me!]<p>

Not to mention my Song-spiration for this fic was, "Taste the Flesh" by Simon Curtis

Hope you liked it, please Review (even your horror)

~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~

~PF 3


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